No sooner did we return from Herne Hill Farmers' Market this afternoon with a chicken whose later life was probably a never-ending litany of drinks parties, massage therapy sessions and in-depth relaxation, given his price tag, than good old Anthony pops up on Facebook. He's only inches from shoving a plump-looking bird into a hot place himself, it seems. Given Welsh Nathan's advice on the preparation of said bird, it seems everyone's chicken-based this Sunday. Odd.
Anyways, ours is considering its fate in the oven as I type this, and will no doubt form the basis of a hugely entertaining evening, which seems set to include writing, GTA, weed, tea and Downton. Can't really complain, can I? Pay day tomorrow, savings on track, life is good.
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